Bad Habits
by Raven55
Summary: With a small knot in her stomach she suddenly realised that running away from trouble was a family trait. To be honest, she had to admit that Michael had definitely been a way of running from her problem. And perhaps Dean was too.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the people in this story, nor the place where it is set. All I own is the fact that these people roam around in my imagination and I write down what I think up for them :P

**- Bad Habits -**

She looked out the window from her seat in the windowsill. From there she could look out over most of the lake and the walk towards the Quidditch Pitch. She could even see the specks of red that represented the Gryffindor team during another one of their practise sessions.

She had to be up there herself, actually. But she had sprained her wrist during the last practise and now she used that as an excuse to skip training just this once. Feeling guilty about chickening out, she ran a hand through her hair. But she had a good reason, she felt.

Lately she felt a bit awkward about playing in the team, even though she knew that she should ignore that feeling. It was the same awkward feeling that bothered her every year around mid-February. It was just plain embarrassment.

Somehow, every time Valentine's Day was looming on the horizon, her friends felt the need to make themselves look ridiculous by giggling endlessly and worrying about whether or not they should send that special someone something.

All that horsing around only painfully reminded her of the Valentine's Day blunder she had made during her own first year. Just thinking about it made her want to disappear again.

She pulled her knees up and sighed.

Underneath all that embarrassment she recognised something else. Feeling this awful also meant that she still felt something she had been trying really hard to ignore. But apparently dating those other boys…Michael…and even Dean…and trying to make herself forget about it hadn't worked all that well as she had hoped.

She slid off the windowsill and sat down on her bed. A single tear rolled down from the corner of her eye.

'I have to stop thinking like this.' She told herself angrily.

She knew very well that she cried every time she allowed these thoughts in her head. But that never really stopped her from opening that particular volume of her memory.

She took a handkerchief from her pocket and forcefully dabbed her eyes with it. Casting a quick look in the mirror to make sure her eyes weren't puffy and red, she pulled on her cloak and left the dormitory.

In the common room she saw Hermione bent over a long scroll of parchment. She was too busy to notice Ginny coming down the stairs.

At the other end of the room she spotted Dean. He, like Hermione, was too busy to notice her, and without knowing exactly why, she tip-toed out the common room. Once outside she leaned against the wall beside the Fat Lady.

This was all too confusing. She liked Dean, didn't she? Then why had she avoided him just now? She didn't know. And she didn't know why she was heading down towards the Pitch now either.

Her head felt filled with just too many emotions and thoughts, all trying to win over the others.

She only half noticed bumping into a Ravenclaw as she passed through the Great Doors. But once she felt the fresh wind, immediately a rush of confidence filled her from head to toe.

With a cheeky grin plastered all over her face, she burst into a run and screamed as loud as she could. She ran across the grounds towards the Pitch, earning herself a few strange looks, but she didn't care.

Once she had reached the dressing room door, she was completely our of breath and she stumbled inside grinning and laughing. She stopped at once when she saw the girls from Gryffindor team were already in there.

"Ginny, are you alright?" Demelza asked curiously. "We heard you screaming…"

Ginny looked at her feet almost guiltily.

"I - I'm fine." She said hastily. "So…is practise already over? I thought Harry had said that training would go on until dusk…"

She noticed how Katie and Demelza rolled their eyes.

"…What." She asked slowly.

"Well…" Katie started hesitantly. "It would seem that your brother…wasn't at his best today."

"And you know what he's like on a _normal_ day." Demelza interrupted.

Ginny let out a loud sigh. "Never mind, then. I don't want to know. Though he'll probably harp on about it all evening. Whether it was his fault or not, he always takes it personally."

"Well he should today, because it _was_ his fault." Katie said with a snort. "Look, we know he's your brother and all, but even Fred and George are getting more and more annoyed with him. Mind you, nearly breaking _my_ nose would get me annoyed as well…"

She bent down to pick up her bag and walked towards the door.

"Coming, Demelza?"

The girl nodded. "Bye Ginny."

"See you later."

Ginny closed the door behind the girls and walked towards the benches underneath the clothes pegs. She touched the peg she always used and sank down on the bench. She loved sitting here just before or after a match. It had a sort of silent echo that portrayed the tension you felt during a game.

It always gave her a pleasant shiver down her spine. But not today. Perhaps because there was no game, but more probably because her head was too full with other things.

Running down here had done her good, but that only lasted for so long. Now that she was calming down again it was as if all the confusion came rushing back inside her, tearing at her sanity.

What was it she really wanted? One was up at the castle, the other was still here. She couldn't go on like this forever, dangling between two options and not knowing which to choose…

"I don't want this anymore!" she said indignantly. "Is it too much to want a little clarity?"

But of course there came no answer from the empty room. She let out an angry sigh. Then she got to her feet and stomped out the door towards the pitch, feeling betrayed by her own thoughts.

If she wanted to get an answer then she would probably have to go and get it herself.

'Just my luck.'

She saw Ron standing in the middle of the field and trotted up to his side.

"Hey dear brother. I heard you weren't having one of your best days today." She said cheerfully.

Ron gave her a foul look. "Oh, lucky me. You too? And I thought Fred and George were the only two family members who liked mocking my Quidditch play."

"Whoa, don't be offended." She said defensively.

It was easy to see he was in one of those moods again. A 'look-out-or-I'll-jump-at-your-throat mood that could give Harry a run for his money. Though Ron's were usually a little more pathetic than Harry's.

"I only meant to-"

"You know what? Why don't _you_ help put away the equipment. I've got stuff to do." He snapped vindictively.

She watched him storm off. That was Ron's way of handling awkward situations, she supposed. By running away.

'No,' she corrected herself. 'By blowing up first. _Then_ he runs away.'

She chuckled and looked at the box a small way ahead. The Bludgers were already tightly locked in, as was the Quaffle. The only ball missing was the Snitch. Then, looking up, she realised Harry was still in the air.

With a small knot in her stomach she suddenly realised that running away from trouble was a family trait. To be honest, she had to admit that Michael had definitely been a way of running from her problem. And perhaps Dean was too.

So, if she was really frank with herself, she recognised that she had been running for quite a while.

"Four years, for Merlin's sake." She muttered under her breath.

She bit her lip and didn't let go as she watched how Harry made a few sharp turns and finally accelerated one last time. Then he held up his hand victoriously and he slowly floated back down to the ground.

He was surprised to see there was suddenly a different Weasley waiting beside the crate.

"Hey…Ginny." He said, obviously startled. "I though you were up at the castle…Where'd Ron go, do you know? I needed to talk to him…"

"Oh he just went-"

"Can you help me put away the crate?"

"Sure."

He bent down and locked the little golden ball inside the trunk and then closed the lid. Then he hoisted up one end of the crate by its handle and looked at her expectantly.

"Oh…" she rushed forward and got hold of the other handle.

"Madam Hooch's office?" she asked.

He nodded with gritted teeth.

She watched him as they carried the crate across the field towards the little office at the side of the Pitch and again that knot in her stomach played up.

Was this really what she was going to keep on doing for the rest of her life? Running away just like Ron? She shivered at that thought.

All that running, she realised, had become a habit. A bad one at that. And it wasn't going to solve anything either.

'Shouldn't bad habits be broken?' it shot through her head unwillingly.

She blushed at the thought of doing something about it. Why do something drastic now? It was going alright, wasn't it?

"Ginny, are you alright?" he suddenly asked.

'No…'

He looked at her closely. "There's definitely something bothering you. If this is about Ron's play, then…you know…it'll get better, I'm sure about it."

He set down the crate and opened the door of Madam Hooch's office. Picking up his side of the crate again to bring it in, he gritted his teeth like he had done before.

Ginny released her handle and slowly walked towards the door while Harry pushed the crate into it's usual spot.

He didn't notice how Ginny slowly, and with a misty look all over her face, closed the door. She leaned against it and watched him wipe the sweat off his brow.

'I don't want to keep on running. I want to stop doing that…but that doesn't mean drastic measures, does it?'

"You know, that training was really awful." He said as he stretched his back. "I've never seen us play this bad."

He looked up and saw her pensive stare.

"…Ginny…you really aren't alright, are you."

She bit her lip again and realised that, now she looked at him, the knot in her stomach got tighter. If she wanted to do something about it, this would be the time.

"Ginny?"

"...You're right. I'm not alright." She said softly.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her worriedly. "Then what-"

"I always run, don't I." She said. "I always do. I don't want to do that anymore, Harry. I don't want to run away anymore."

"What are you running from? Is someone bullying you? Are you having a fight with Dean?"

Was that a tone of hope at the end of his sentence, she wondered.

"No…not a fight…"

"…Oh."

Suddenly she lurched forward and hugged him. Startled, he patted her back awkwardly. And with a sudden grin on her face, she pressed her mouth to his.

She expected him to grab her shoulders and push her away and patiently waited for him to do so. But he didn't. She was startled to realise he was kissing her back.

Her head was spinning with thoughts. Did she want this? Was this right? Should she stop or go on? What about Dean? Perhaps she actually wanted him to push her away. Because then it would have been so easy. She could have turned away and made a run for the castle, where Dean would still be there for her.

But while she stood there like this all those thoughts vanished slowly and she realised that she hadn't felt this wonderfully at peace in a long time. She knew she had made her choice and that this was the right one. But now she felt guilty. Guilty because he _wasn't_ pushing her away and that they were both doing something, knowing very well they shouldn't.

Slowly she backed off. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"No, don't be…" he had a soft smile on his face that told her that she had just complicated it even more for herself.

"Yes I am…I shouldn't have done that. Dean-"

And then she quickly turned around and left through the door, leaving him quite startled. Making her way up to the castle as quickly as possible, she was feeling even more guilt.

Because she was still savouring the feeling of the kiss. Because she was savouring the taste. Because she had used Dean as an excuse to run away again from something she had been quite happy to continue. And because she had fallen into that old habit again.

'But…' she thought with a grin that was slightly bitter, 'Bad habits are just difficult to break.'

And perhaps it was the Weasley gene kicking in. Perhaps Weasleys were just good at running.

**The End**


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